


In My Hands

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindfolds, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 22: Blindfolds.  John is called out, the boys get some time alone, Dean cheers Sam up</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. And kink. Here’s a side of kink. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment. AU in that I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester.

Sam’s brooding, won’t even fight with John. Dean knows it’s the last job the three of them did – truth be told it bothered all of them, but the alternatives had been worse. Sam always takes longer to get over these things than Dean and John do. Dad sat down with his baby brother early this morning, had a quiet, intense conversation, left the kid thinking. Dean’s not quite sure what to do, himself. Last night he’d waited until John went to bed – the man never woke before the boys – and wrapped the kid in his arms, despite their father being right there in the room. Sam managed to get more sleep than he had in days. Dean nearly had a heart attack when John walked up to the bed where both of them were lying in the night and stood there for a few minutes, then murmured a blessing, touching both of their heads briefly, and pulled the comforter up around their shoulders. Both boys suspect that John might know about the depth of their relationship, but they’re Winchesters, after all, and silence is golden.

They’re lounging on the bed reading when John sits down by Sam, lays a hand on the kid’s arm. Dean holds his breath, but his brother just looks up, calmly.

“Boys,” comes the gruff apology. “Ellen’s got some trouble down at the Roadhouse with Jo, wants me to come down.”

Dean starts up. “We’ll be ready in -“

“No, Dean, not that big a deal, she asked that I come by myself, all right? It’s not far, maybe you boys stay put, and I’ll be back in two days. All right,” he asks, and both boys can tell he’d rather not go, but he’s not gonna leave Ellen in the lurch, not when their own family is safe for the moment, and there isn’t a hunt on.

“Sure Dad,” comes the reply from Sam. “We’ll finish up here, and wait for you.” His voice is quiet, holding no accusations, and John’s eyes crinkle with one of his rare smiles. He’s gone within the hour, and Dean reaches over, pulls Sam to him, thinking. Silence is comfortable, and a while later Dean presses in a long kiss. He breaks away, and Sam frowns, reaches for him.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. Need something.” He strips off his shirt, and is back in a flash, not taking long to grab the items he needs, and as he turns back, there’s a little worried crease on Sam’s forehead. Probably thinking Dean’s collaring him. He gives the kid a wry smile, straddles him, leaning in for another long kiss. Sam doesn’t relax, and he dangles the blindfold from his fingers, searching Sam’s eyes. Sam’s expression softens, and he nods a little shyly. Dean’s kissing him again, deep and slow, running his fingers through the tangles of the long hair before he gently slides the blindfold on.

He moves infinitely slowly, running his hands along Sam’s clothing, appreciating the soft flannel and smooth feel of worn bluejeans. Sam doesn’t speak, and neither does he. He waits for the squirming to peak, removes the flannel so Sam’s forearms are bared, though he still has a tight tee shirt on. Dean focuses all his attention on the bared arms, tracing every inch of skin with his fingers, chasing the touch with his tongue.

Sam’s breathing has slowed down, and he’s quit squirming, Dean can _feel_ him focusing on the sensation. Dean’s surprised at how hard his own cock is. He pushes Sam’s shirt up, leans down to undo the soft bluejeans with his teeth, pausing to lick a little at Sam’s skin. A mere whisper of a moan answers his action, and the slight arch of his lover’s back as the jeans are abandoned.

His hands slide down to Sam’s feet where he chooses to massage, once the socks are abandoned, and that too is slow. He can’t believe it, but his baby brother seems to carry that tension even in his legs, and he takes his time about gently smoothing it away. When his fingers reach Sam’s inner thighs, the spot where the hair is worn and baby fine, he lets his tongue speak for him for a few minutes, while he rests his hands on Sam’s waist. He waits for a shy whimper before easing the T shirt off, and the expanse of Sam’s golden, muscled chest is before him.

Here, he skims his fingers along, barely touching, and his teeth just barely graze that smooth, tanned skin, working a flickering tongue around the erect nipples. He pulls off Sam’s boxers, and surprises the younger boy, by bringing his hands up to his face, exploring the strong cheekbones, the pouty lips, which he leaves lingering kisses on. Dean luxuriates in the thick hair, before his hands wander south again.

Dean keeps his touch light as he explores the crease of Sam’s thighs, the little seam where his balls are joined, the baby soft skin of the hard penis, and the delightful drops of pre-come beading on the tip. One hand leaves Sam’s body, just for a moment, and Dean feels the loss radiate through Sam, just as it ricochets through his own body, but he doesn’t want to go further without the lube. The little pop that the bottle top makes has Sam relaxing, Dean with him. He brings Sam’s legs up, and traces between the soft cheeks. Dean thinks about how pretty they are after a spanking, and he softly taps both sides of Sam’s behind as a reminder. Sam glides up, moans.

His own jeans abandoned now, Dean traces around the quivering anus. As his index finger dips inside, his other hand massages some color into the cheek beside, and he smiles. Sam’s hands are trailing through Dean’s hair, his touch as soft as Dean’s.

Dean’s fingers trail along the velvety soft heat of Sam’s passage, lingering on the little bump that has Sam quivering from head to toe now, breathing fast. Normally he’d scissor his fingers, stretching Sam open, but today his fingers circle, pressure increasing with each round, until he has three fingers inside, and Sam makes the slightest begging noise.

He slicks his own cock up, slides a cock ring on himself. Dean guides his bound and throbbing head to slide home, eliciting Sam’s moans, long and low. When he’s buried inside, he leans up and kisses the boy. Dean’s strokes are deep and slow, each one ripping a more intense sound from Sam, and finally, he needs to push for Sam’s waiting orgasm.

He goes for power behind the thrusts, rather than any kind of speed. At the end of each push, his own body quivers, and is met by an answering echo of shudders from Sam. Finally even the cock ring can’t hold back his orgasm. Sam’s muscles flutter around him, and the shocks of the orgasms move from one boy into the other, back again, and then ripple through with more intensity, until Dean’s spent, stretches out along Sam’s warm body.

He can feel Sam’s warm hand moving idly along his back. He reaches up, gently slides the blindfold away, and then Sam’s lifting him, pulling him up so that they can kiss again. When Dean can breathe, he moves enough to curl his body around Sam’s exhausted one, still without words. The measured breaths of Sam’s sleep follow quickly, and Dean hopes that it was right, that he was right.

Dean wakes heartbeats before Sam, to the feel of the boy’s hand cupping his face. When Sam’s eyes open, and the trust and complete relaxation shine from those green eyes before Sam even comes fully awake, he knows.


End file.
